Twitch and Little Guy had a brief but rather intense conversation the day we brought him home, then she retreated to her favorite safety zone, the top of the fridge. Once we had rescued Little Guy from behind the bathtub, we moved him to the study, a room which has a solid door and plenty of space for him to run around while he got used to living indoors.
Little Guy: Wow, I like this place! It’s warm and there’s plenty of yummy food and it never, ever rains! Ooh! What’s that? A catnip mouse? Goody goody! I had a great time last night bouncing off the walls and throwing things on the floor. I think tonight I’ll climb the curtains and see if I can’t knock a couple of pictures off the walls. Woo-hoo! Boy, I’m having a great time. Yes, I am. But now…I’m getting…kind of…sleepy….zzzz.
Since he’d passed his HIV test and his cold seemed to be over, we thought it was time to release him into the general feline population, meaning Twitchy.
As you can see, it wasn’t a joyous occasion. He’s curious about her but she’s pretty much afraid of him, which is weird considering that she’s about twenty times bigger than him. I had expected her to have more moxie than that.
Baby steps. At this point, it’s supervised visits only until we can be sure that she’s not planning to have a Little Guy sandwich for lunch.
To be clear, Little Guy is not his name. It’s just something to call him until we find the right one, unless he turns out to be a rapper and we call him Lil Gui. We’ve vetoed a few names already: Bruce, Eliot, Seneca, Spartacus. It has to be something that goes well with Twitchy, the way Plato went with Dana.